


Faith, Duty and Dean Winchester

by Christilistic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angels, Castiel-centric (Supernatural), Gen, Implication of torture, M/M, Religious Themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:54:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29830779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Christilistic/pseuds/Christilistic
Summary: Angels were not created emotionless. There can only be emotion if there is uncertainty.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 2





	Faith, Duty and Dean Winchester

**Author's Note:**

> Don't expect any kind of plot. This is like 90% musings on angels and like. Angelic Philosophy.

Angels were not created emotionless. There can only be emotion if there is uncertainty. What is the point of sadness if there is no regret? Happiness if there is nothing to be pleasantly surprised by?

The Host of Heaven was created on the first day, fully formed by a God they had never seen. The Archangels had come before, but as that was before Castiel’s conception Castiel paid it no mind. In an Angel’s first moment they know their name, their Father and their Duty. Castiel is a Seraph, a third order Angel. Humans have created their own Rules of Angelic Hierarchy, but most of these have been misguided. Castiel is not a powerful angel, as some mistakenly believed Seraphim to be. Castiel is a Soldier. Castiel was born aware of the world, just as all his brethren were. Castiel is not omniscient, yet there is a fundamental understanding of the World that all Angels have: to grasp the shape of the Earth and see it's lonely voyage through time and space. To be able to hear light, the whole spectrum; to see the core of a human soul, taste the fear of a baby bird fallen from the tree. Castiel knows these things, has always known these things. And Castiel knows that all of these, including the angelic Self, are the way they are because God willed it. Castiel does what Castiel is told, because they are orders received from superiors who have in turn received revelation from the Archangels who converse directly with the Father. These orders are Good because they are from God and God is Good. 

Often Castiel is ordered to Watch. This is important work; and Castiel has spent many centuries gazing upon the Earth. Watched cliffs form and be whittled away once again into sand. Watched ice take the plains and then return them to the grass. Castiel has walked upon the Earth, too. Taken the form of Man, of Woman; has fitted the Self into a vessel, seen through their two eyes. Has delivered Prophecy and Guidance to the Chosen. These orders can be complex and occasionally they can feel - can create a kind of Conflict. Castiel has caused unknowable pain, has commited the act of murder. Castiel might have to lead the son to the altar of his father’s faith or rain violence down upon the cruel and wretched (that were only acting out against the cruel and unknowable, who could not taste fear or know holy Will) and sometimes Castiel does not understand these orders or what purpose they serve; other than God’s Purpose. But it always is God’s Purpose, no matter how unknowable, and Castiel always carries the Orders out. There is always a right course of action.

By the year that humans called 2008, Castiel had become the head of the Garrison that once belonged to Turiel. Turiel served this post well, before Turiel had become a human woman named Anna. Turiel was Wise, and Just, and would take the weight of grief from the shoulders of the fallen at the Gates of Heaven. But that was before. Now Turiel was nothing, less than nothing, meting out a precarious existence on Earth. Between the blink of Castiel’s Eye and the next Anna would grow old, die, and herself be Reaped. Castiel would wonder if Anna would go to Heaven then, and if there would be grief on her shoulders (did she regret it, any of it, did she even remember?), but that was not important. It was not for Castiel to know. Castiel did not guard the Gates. Anna was once Turiel, an Agent of Fate. Now she was nothing. And Castiel was now the head of the Garrison.

The orders, from a superior from an archangel from God, were thus: To find the soul of the Righteous Man, Dean Winchester, and deliver him from the Pit back onto the Mortal Plane. He was a vessel; the true vessel of the archangel Michael; and his brother, the true vessel of the Fallen One. It was known that the First Demon planned to force the vessel’s hand to break the first seal. It was Castiel’s orders to rescue the soul before this could happen. 

Castiel had never entered the infernal realm before, and the Fear-Anger-Pain-Disgust of the souls there weighed down as Castiel passed through the entrance the angel Haniel had made, and it felt as if a wicked Turiel were laying a burden down instead of allaying it. Hell was hot, and confining: to human eyes it would seem dark and endless, but Castiel could see the boundaries, the cage-like shape of the place. After all it had been created to hold the true cage, the cage of Lucifer. Hell-fire burned bright hot everywhere Castiel looked, and the monstrous, decayed souls they called Demons came for Castiel’s wings. The light of his grace and that of his brothers and sisters was like a beacon for the creatures, and they smote each one before their teeth and claws could tear at their Forms. 

Castiel’s Self was mostly unharmed by the time the Vessel had been located. This part of Hell was colder than the rest, and the screams were fewer but no less visceral. Castiel was an angel, and while a soldier, a meter of Justice (the murderer or fresh born babes and misguided people who had never seen the Face of God), the sound of human suffering grated at the core of Castiel’s Being. The urge to turn, to look away, came over Castiel, but this was not the time. There was a mission here, not yet completed. And finally after all of it there was the Soul and - it was not on the rack. It was not screaming. Castiel felt something, in the Core in the Self, a sensation like a feather had been twisted back, but the feeling was magnified, like the Self was the feather being twisted back and there was the Vessel but it was holding a Knife and - _As he breaks, so shall it break_ \- and the mission was for nothing. Castiel had failed. He heard the voice of his Kin, to retreat before their entrance closed, that the mission had been for naught, the seal had broken. Castiel turned away from the soul and his knife and braced once again to soar over the flame, but there was a thought that wouldn’t let go, that feather still pushed back. This was a mission from an angel from an archangel from God. If the seal had broken, if they had been too late, was that not God’s Will? Castiel looked at the soul again. He looked past the knife, past the wretched screams of the being tied down and cut and carved underneath him. There was the Vessel, the Sword, the Righteous Man, and his soul was not wretched. It was not twisted nor decayed, not yet. There was only one thought and Castiel could not let it go: here was a Man and he was Good, not in the way that God is Good, but in the way that a Man is Good, trying to create something of their own in a life too short to achieve any true change, being Borne without knowing, without understanding the shape of the world or your place in it but trying to learn nonetheless. And Castiel knew that this man deserved to be saved.

The man had not yet sensed Castiel’s presence, and so Castiel appeared before him. He immediately recoiled, the light of Castiel’s Grace almost too much to bear. If they were in the mortal plane it would have been, the eyes and ears of the soul’s body would not have been able to withstand it. “Be not afraid,” Castiel said, because it was what had to be said, as Castiel’s visage was created to bring the onlooker to its knees, in fear and worship. The soul still would not look, and so Castiel reached out and grasped his shoulder. The moment the connection was made Castiel was overcome with Thought-Emotion-Memory: there was a Car and a Brother and Regret and Mission and knowing you couldn’t ever save all of them and at least you were doing something, anything and maybe someone somewhere could sleep safely at night and - then Pain. Then Death. Castiel felt this and it was seemingly endless, like the sum of this Man’s short life had somehow grown larger than Castiel’s own Self, encompassing Castiel and rendering a Seraph, an Angel, to a shaking, quivering mortal. And then it was over, and the Man was facing Castiel and Castiel knew, knew that this Man was the True Vessel of the Archangel Michael but that Dean Winchester was in some way Castiel’s. Castiel gripped the man again, tighter this time, and spread his wings for flight.

**Author's Note:**

> my tumblr is [@08x21](http://08x21.tumblr.com) hmu to discuss the fucked up angel morality is on the CW's Supernatural


End file.
